The Newspaper Clipping
by TheDevilYouDon't
Summary: "What's this?" he asks, holding up the clipping and she blushes slightly.    "Oh…that…It's…just…Nothing, really." H/Hr. Post-DH.


**Disclaimer: They aren't mine. ::points to Harry and Hermione who are backing up towards the bedroom:: Whoever uses them next might want to rinse them off. They might be a bit sticky. xD**

**A/N: _Goblet of Fire _was on today. Got a little carried away. Takes place about four years post DH.**

_The Newspaper Clipping_

They were running late (a fact they were both sure of, but one only he would admit to).

"Hermione! Hurry up! Our reservation's for ten minutes from now!" he yells up the stairs.

"I'll be down in a minute!" comes her reply, but he just sighs and frowns down at his watch, adjusting his tie.

He shakes his head up the stairs. "You said that ten minutes ago."

"What was that, honey?"

"Nothing," he's quick to reply.

Hermione steps to the top of the stairs a moment later, adjusting her left earring and looking less frazzled than he does. "If you're so antsy, get my keys out of my purse and go ahead and pull the car around," she tells him.

He nods and looks at her dress. "You look beautiful, by the way."

She finally fixes her earring and beams down at him. "You don't look so bad either." She disappears down the hall then, yelling back, "Go ahead and get the car. I'll be done in just a second."

It's when he goes to her purse (which is lying on the counter beside her wallet, like it is every day) that he finds it. Buried within the spatially enhanced shadows of her purse is a folded up newspaper clipping. He locates the keys a moment later, and pulls them into his hands before frowning at the clipping. As though afraid she might walk into the kitchen any moment, he looks around carefully before slipping it out and unfolding it.

The shock is both minor and monumental.

The newspaper clipping reads, "Harry Potter's Secret Heartache," in the bold font that is recognizably from the Daily Prophet. The picture—tactlessly shaped like a heart—shows a 4th year Hermione flinging her anxious self into Harry's equally 4th year arms in what Rita Skeeter is clearly portraying as a romantic moment.

Harry smiles a bit because he hasn't seen the picture or the article in nearly seven years and, even though the picture was taken before there was anything recognizably romantic between him and his—now—wife, it's still a shock that she saved the clipping to begin with.

As distracted as he is by his discovery, he doesn't hear Hermione enter the kitchen behind him, her heels clicking on the linoleum. "Harry?" she questions and he turns around at the sound of her voice. "I thought you were gonna pull the car up."

"What's this?" he asks, holding up the clipping and she blushes slightly.

"Oh…that…It's…just…Nothing, really."

He takes a step forward and smiles. "Sweetie, we've been married for two years, I like to think you can trust me."

"Well…" She blushes even deeper and reaches out to take the clipping from his hand. "I saved it…after we read it…I didn't want to throw it away."

"Why?"

She shrugs. "It was nice to know that…I wasn't the only one who thought you and I would make a good couple…"

She doesn't get a chance to add anything else, because Harry leans forward then and captures her lips with his own, bringing his hand up to the back of her neck. She presses back into him and feels, not for the first time since they began dating four years ago, like she's finally been brought home.

When he pulls away, he grins and it's all she can do to keep from melting. "I love you, Mrs. Potter," he says gently.

She bites her lip to keep from feeling like she's 17 again. "I love you too, too, Mr. Potter."

He turns and slips the clipping back into her purse with her wallet and hands her the bag. Once it's secure on her shoulder, he takes her hand and winds their fingers together, leading her out the front door and towards the car.

And with the warmth of her hand in his and the nervous tingly feeling she always gives him sliding up and down his arms towards his heart, Harry has completely forgotten that they are almost 10 minutes late for their dinner reservations.

_fin_


End file.
